


A Mournful Rustling in the Dark

by teprometo



Series: 2012 Summer Pornathon [6]
Category: Dollhouse, Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Amnesia, Dubious Consent, M/M, Team Gluttony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-21
Updated: 2012-07-21
Packaged: 2017-11-10 23:32:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/471957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teprometo/pseuds/teprometo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur and Merlin had a life together. Now all Arthur has is this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Mournful Rustling in the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> Earned second place in its group for challenge six of the 2012 Summer Pornathon, [Crossovers/Fusions](http://summerpornathon.livejournal.com/84092.html).
> 
>  _The leaves of memory seemed to make_  
>  _A mournful rustling in the dark._  
>  \- The Fire of Drift-wood, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Arthur has loaded Delta up with every fantasy he can think of. He’s been a dungeon master, a foot fetishist, a contortionist, a slut for piss, and even a woman.

Arthur follows the rules. When Delta comes over, he hides all evidence of his life with Merlin. He knows not to confuse Delta with a past he can’t remember.

But sometimes Arthur thinks Merlin is with him, somewhere beneath the persona and the suffocating emptiness. Something about the way Delta holds Arthur’s hand as he comes or how he presses soft kisses behind Arthur’s ear as though he knows that gesture, as though it has sunk so far into his being that even the Dollhouse couldn’t wipe it away.

He says things like, “You never were any good at eggs,” when Arthur breaks the yolk _again_. Then he squints, as though surprised by knowledge he can’t source.

Arthur is surprised, too. He’s never had them program any of this into Delta’s head, never wanted him to know the things that Merlin knows. He’s never programmed Delta to love him.

*** 

This time, Delta comes to him as a Parisian escort. The truth is, Arthur’s so fucking sick of fantasy he could scream.

And he does scream, with four of Delta’s fingers up his ass. Delta, who thinks he’s Étienne, says, “I would very much like for you to fuck me now, Mr. Pendragon.”

Arthur nods up at him, watches as Delta pushes two lubed fingers into himself even as he pumps into Arthur’s ass, lips parted, a demure moan just barely emanating from his chest.

He’s perfect at being sexy, just like a high-class hooker should be, and Arthur feels terribly sad.

Delta pulls his fingers out of Arthur and pouts like he wants to keep them there. Arthur ignores the show, instead wrapping his fingers around Merlin’s— _Delta’s_ —hips and pulling him up to hover over Arthur’s cock.

He’s still ashamed of this. After all this time, he still feels like he’s betraying Merlin with these mockeries—these _dolls_. When he comes back, will Merlin understand? Will he feel disgusted by the things his body did when his mind was trapped in a fucking box in Topher Brink’s playhouse?

Delta sinks down onto Arthur’s dick, and Arthur stops thinking about shame. He needs this, and the Dollhouse specializes in needs.

Delta fucks like a pro, all perfectly timed hitches of breath and twisting hips, until he doesn’t anymore.

He abruptly goes from telling Arthur how big and good he is to rocking silently, indulgently, as though every movement is for his own sake and not Arthur’s.

“Call me Merlin,” Delta whispers, and his French accent is gone.

Arthur wants to believe. He opens his eyes, and it _is_ Merlin. It’s the set of his brow and the jut of his lip and the way his hands curl into Arthur’s biceps.

“Fuck, baby,” Arthur whimpers, pulling his head down and kissing him.

He kisses like Merlin, the mixture of hesitation and intensity something no one could ever duplicate, manufacture, perfect.

“Call me Merlin,” he repeats against Arthur’s lips.

“Merlin,” Arthur says, and he has missed it. He has missed his lover’s name on his lips.

“Merlin, I miss you.”

Merlin kisses him again, and Arthur welcomes his tongue into his mouth, welcomes Merlin home.

Merlin fucks him slowly and deliberately, as though they’ll never do this again. His thumb brushing Arthur’s cheek and his small gasps of pleasure make Arthur feel like he’s drowning.

Merlin’s orgasm is quiet and long. When Arthur comes minutes later, it’s with Merlin’s hands cradling his face, and a too-intense eye contact Arthur can’t bear to look away from. Merlin rides him through it and then kisses him calm again.

*** 

Delta hesitates at the door and looks at Arthur. Arthur's hair is a beautiful mess. His expression is broken and full of longing.

Delta isn’t sure how much of himself is Merlin and how much is everything else that’s been stuffed inside, but he feels Arthur’s pain as if it were his own. He thinks it’s Merlin’s, and he gives it a chance to be fully felt, for Merlin’s sake, before he shoves that heartache back into the box in his head labeled _irrelevant_.

“Soon,” he says, and then he leaves.

***

Arthur peeks through the curtains and watches Delta get into the van, his body language more confident than Merlin’s ever was.

Five years, was the contract. Only four to go.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [For Each Choice (the Call Me Merlin remix)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6458638) by [wyvern](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wyvern/pseuds/wyvern)




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